Sharks or no sharks, the ocean is the world’s toilet. Pass.

I’m assuming you were an Education major(?). The training I got was for graduates in the Writing program to teach Comp 101 courses and not much else. I don’t know what kind of training the actual teachers got. The left hand didn’t seem to know what the right was doing.

I’d compare it to when I was a judge at the Kansas City Royal Open BBQ Competition. There were so many competitors (because it was an Open, as opposed to the Invitational segment) that they needed a legion of judges to eat. So you just send them an email to see if there’s an open slot, then day of the competition you…

That’s not at all what I’m suggesting, but YDY.

Sometimes it’s good to read the second paragraph.

This may be fairly common knowledge nowadays, but getting a book published has almost next to nothing to do with your ability as a writer. Because, as I witnessed firsthand many times when I worked in publishing, your manuscript can be a complete unreadable mess—it will just be rewritten by your editor. Your value is…

The first college I taught at (where I attended grad school), made you take a one-semester “How to Be a Teacher” (not what they called it) course. It was a mix of hearing words like “pedagogy” and “curriculum” and writing sample assignments. But mostly it was a support group for grad students who were all concurrently…

Free idea for Netflix: A six-episode scripted series about Christmas . . . something . . . that releases a new season every Christmas Eve. Sure, they’re churning out enough Christmas movies to more than fill wrapping time, but there’s just a different vibe to binge-watching a series that I think would pair well with…

I can already see the commercial with cows squeaking instead of mooing. 

It’s like they told us in motorcycle training: “Locks only keep honest people honest.”

I’ve never had a vehicle stolen, but I’ve had a stolen vehicle. When I was 18 and desperate to be done with my mom’s hand-me-down ‘84 Oldsmobile Delta 88, I bought an ‘86 4-cylinder Ford Mustang hatchback from what I didn’t realize at the time was a chop shop in Revere, MA. The cracked steering column and ACE Hardware…

Yesterday I found out that a black man my wife works with was considering taking me to his family Thanksgiving in Chicago as his “token white person” because my wife has been talking to him about my longing for Black Thanksgiving. Sadly, he’s going to be stuck in Boston and won’t make it home. As a conciliation, he…

No version of Titans ever has made me care about the children of Slade Wilson. Not Grant. Not Rose. And absolutely not Jericho and his stupid hair and pirate shirt. The only thing I care less about than Deathstroke’s kids is anything involving Trigon.

Half the people in that conference room were overweight or obese, the other half need to run 10 miles everyday or they’ll balloon up. Just a cookie, they all say.

I was on a diet last year and had lost 30 pounds. My birthday rolled around and my coworkers bought a bunch of giant cookies to celebrate. I spent 20 awkward minutes trying to convince them that I really shouldn’t eat the cookie (I hadn’t had a sugary treat in over a year). I felt such shame and anxiety leaving work,…

I host a giant kids and parents Halloween party every year: love it!
I host a big, adults-only cocktail party in the spring: love it!
I’ve hosted two Thanksgivings and a Christmas for my wife’s family: NEVER AGAIN! (I’m sorry that your parents are getting old and hoping someone will relieve them of the burden of hosting…

At my in-laws house, the kitchen, dining room, and living room are all one big room (and it’s not that big), so, basically, everybody is in the kitchen the entire day. And these are big Irish people, so everyone takes a bit of space. It’s . . . cozy.

Can’t wait to get a slice of that Kraft® Hall-OO-Mee™.

If by white tears you mean those I cry because my in-laws adamantly refuse to let me bring macaroni & cheese to Thanksgiving, then yes, they are overflowing.

Mr. Harriot,